outbursts are the froth of a soul in its seething. But if one were
satisfied--" he paused, and then he went on again. "Oh! If you knew!--
In the desert in Egypt I used to think I had found rest, sometimes. I
am sated with this life here. A quoi bon, Madame!--the same thing year
after year!--and then since I have known you. I have wondered if
perhaps you in your country could teach me peace."

"So many of you are so déséquilibrés," Tamara said. "You seem to be so
polished and sensible and even great, and then in a moment you are off
at a tangent, displaying that want of discipline that we at home would
not permit in a child."

"Yes it is true."

"It seems that you love, and must have, or you hate and must kill.
There are storms and passions, and the gaiety of children and their
irresponsibility, and all on the top is good manners and smiles, but
underneath--I have a feeling I know not what volcano may burst."

"Tonight I feel one could flame with me." He came up close now and
looked into her eyes, as if he were going to say something, and then he
restrained himself.

Tamara did not move, she looked at him gravely.

"You all seem as if you had no aim," she said. "You are not interested
in the politics of your country. You don't seem to do anything but kill
time--Why?"

"Our country!" he said, and he flung himself into a seat near. "It